Unlucky in Love (21 page)

Had those been signs?

She glanced over at Katie, who was staring out the windshield with wide, scared eyes. She'd spent the summer filling Lexi in on Mom's increasingly strange behavior, but both of them had figured Mom was just amping up her attention-seeking maneuvers because she was down to only one daughter to boss around.

“Girls?” Mom's voice came from the backseat. “Did I ask you this already? Did one of you get my medications?”

“Boo.” Lexi's friend Stephanie poked her head through the nurse's office door four weeks later. “Any vomiters in here?”

“No.” Lexi rolled her eyes. “You're safe.”

Steph came in, looking around like she wasn't quite sure whether to believe her. “Want some company for lunch?”

“Still trying to avoid Brian?”

“Absolutely. Never date and dump a science teacher, I'm telling you.”

Lexi laughed quietly as Steph sat down on the small couch and opened her lunch bag. “Noted. I was never big on science teachers, anyway.”

“So how are things? I feel like I've barely seen you since you got back from Montana.”

At just the name of the state, Lexi's stomach did a flip. Montana. Whisper Creek. Heaven-on-earth. The place her head went when it could no longer process the situation here at home.

She shrugged carefully. “Things are—well, you know. Not great.”

“Is your mom driving you crazy?”

“In more ways than one, yes. But that's not really new.” She took a deep breath. “The official diagnosis is, though. New, I mean.”

“Oh, Alexis. Really? They really think that's what it is?”

“Yeah.” Lexi pushed her salad away, not hungry. She'd lost ten pounds since she'd returned to Maine, between the stress and her inability to force food down a constantly constricted throat.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don't know. Katie and I are trying to figure it out as we go. Some days I feel like I want a ten-year plan, just so I know we have one, but most days I'm struggling to put one foot in front of the other. It was bad enough when we were just rehabbing a broken hip and cardiac surgery—like that's minor or something—but now this? My mother is freaking
out
.”

“As would we all.” Steph sighed. “I'm so sorry, Lexi. How does this—what does this mean…for Gunnar?”

At the mention of his name, Lexi pressed her lips together, wishing the physical pain of missing him would start getting better one of these days. But it hadn't.

For the first week she'd been home, he'd called every day. The second week, it'd been every other day or so. By the fourth week, he'd called only once. The last three times she'd talked to him, she'd had to hang up because Mom had needed her, and every single time, she hadn't been sure whether he'd want her to call back later.

He was busy, he'd said. Two new horses had come in from a rescue ranch in Nevada. Corporate groups had booked up the ranch for most of fall, so he was doing double-duty because some of the young punks, as he called them, had headed back to college.

He'd always asked how she was doing, and he'd always sounded like he cared what the answer might be…but after a few weeks, the distance between them had become too palpable to ignore.

His life was
there
.

Hers was here.

And now that Mom was looking down a ten-years-at-best gun barrel, all of those teeny little sparks of possibility Lexi had harbored out in Montana were dying slow, painful deaths. She couldn't leave here, even if she'd had time to see if she and Gunnar might have turned into something worth leaving
for
.

And now she'd never find out.

“You dizzy yet?” Cole called from the fence that evening, as Gunnar watched Duke's legs carefully. Despite the padding Gunnar had put up inside his stall, the poor horse had still managed to work himself into a frenzy last week that had left him with a three-inch gash in one leg. He was moving all right tonight, though, and Gunnar had been determined to get him outside for some crisp September air.

“Yep. But he's looking better.”

“You thinking about knocking off at any point? Decker and I are meeting Danny in town for a couple of beers. No tourists. We'll have Salty's to ourselves.”

“What? No karaoke?” Gunnar rolled his eyes. “Sorry. No dice. I'm gonna hang here.”

“Hey, Gunnar? Maybe I'm out of line here, but I'm pretty sure these horses aren't going to help you erase Lexi from your head, no matter how many hours you work.”

Gunnar stopped his motions, making Duke snort in surprise. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Cole sighed, leaning on the fence.

“Let me ask you something.”

“I reserve the right to plead the Fifth.”

“Fair enough. Do you miss her?”

“Miss her like hell, yeah.” Might as well tell the truth, since Cole had his mother's way of seeing right through people who didn't.

“And what are you doing about it? Besides walking horses in circles till you're too dizzy to walk yourself?”

“What
can
I do about it, Cole? She's in Maine, for Christ's sake. She's got a mother with an Alzheimer's diagnosis—not to mention a job and a home. No way she's going anywhere, so what could I possibly do?”

Cole shrugged slowly.

“Ever consider going to
her
?”

“And do what? Live in Maine?”

“People do. It's a thing.” Cole smiled. “I imagine they even have horses. Maybe you could find a piece of land there.”

Gunnar blew out a breath, then loose-tied Duke and grabbed him a pile of hay to munch on. He walked over to Cole and matched his pose, one tier down the fence line.

“I've thought about it. More than I want to admit.”

“And?”

“And it's insane. Jesus, Cole, I barely know her, y'know? And the last few times I've talked to her, she only manages about a minute before she has to go. Doesn't really give a guy the warm fuzzies.”

“I'm sure she's distracted with everything going on there. She doesn't seem like the kind of woman who'd purposely blow you off.” Cole looked out over the mountains. “She might just be at a loss for what to say to you at this point. I mean, honestly? You told me what her mother was like
before
everything happened. And now she's looking at spending the next however many years taking care of her? On her own? I'd think it'd be hard to make casual conversation about the weather, with all she's dealing with.”

“I know. And it's killing me that we didn't have even one more week, y'know? I felt like we were both
this
close to jumping off the cliff together, parachutes be damned, and then
bam
. She's gone.”

“Been there, buddy.”

Cole's face got serious, and Gunnar could practically see the memories flying through his friend's brain at warp speed.

“Let me ask you this—you keep thinking you smell her perfume when you're walking somewhere?”

Gunnar nodded, then shook his head.

“Your eyes look at her cabin every damn time you leave the barn?”

“Yep.”

“You can't find your keys or your hat or your shoes, but you can picture every thread on the dress she was wearing the last time you were together?”

Gunnar sighed. “Shit.”

“Yep.”

“So what'd
you
do?”

“I went and got the girl. And damn, she'd gone for the
hills,
man. Jess had a lot of demons to slay before she could think about believing she deserved a happily ever after. I think your Lexi's got a set of her own, but I also think…maybe you could help her. I have a feeling she's the kind of woman who'd never believe a guy would come riding in on a white steed to her rescue, but maybe that's exactly what she needs.”

Gunnar shook his head. “I don't know. Not sure she'd trust the whole white steed thing.”

“Well, then, you might have to get a little more creative.” Cole stepped off the fence, motioning toward the stable. “Put Duke up for the night. Come join us for a couple of beers. Decker and I have been talking. Let the three lovesick bastards who came before you help you make a plan.”

Gunnar laughed, rolling his eyes. The thought of the four of them sitting at Salty's bar discussing his romantic prospects was a vision he couldn't quite get to gel, but when he thought about Decker and Kyla, or Cole and Jess, and even Daniel and Hayley, he saw three couples who'd gone through their own sets of hells to get where they were today. And where they were today was pretty frigging amazing.

Maybe…maybe they
could
help him.

That weekend, Lexi took a glass of lemonade and her sketchbook out to Mom's porch, determined to find an hour of peace while Mom napped. The leaves on the maple next to the house were just starting to turn, and she wanted to see if she could capture the glow, even though she was working in black and white.

She opened her sketch pad for the first time since she'd left Montana, and was immediately assaulted by the first picture. Her stomach tumbled as she caught the red stable, the outline of a big black horse, the Crazies in the distance beyond.

And Gunnar.

She'd tried all summer to draw the man, to capture his essence on paper, and as she flipped slowly through her sketch pad, she realized she'd never quite managed. His half-smile was on one page, but the eyes were all wrong. On another page, she'd captured the twinkling amusement in his dark brown eyes, but hadn't done his strong, gorgeous jaw justice. On yet another, she'd drawn his body perfectly, but it still didn't communicate the strength, the soul, the man he was.

A drop of water splashed onto the page, and she swore, wiping her eyes. Some days, she was unbelievably thankful she'd had the opportunity to fall in love with him—because yes, it was pretty flipping clear now that that's exactly what she'd done. Now she knew what it could feel like when it was real. It
had
been real, dammit. Despite the aborted phone calls and stilted conversations they'd finally seemed to give up on over the past two weeks, she hadn't dreamed this summer. She hadn't dreamed
him
.

On other days, she wished she'd never gotten on that plane in June, because the pain right now was almost too much to bear, and if she'd never met him at all, it would certainly be easier.

She sighed a shaky sigh, staring at the last sketch in her book—the one she'd been most proud of when she'd finished. When Gunnar had taken her out to Nagamoon Lake, he'd had no way of knowing she was watching him, cataloging his every move, watching the way the sunset played on his dark hair, in hopes she could capture it later on paper.

It had taken her days, but this page captured his essence better than any picture on the website. This was the real Gunnar, stripped of his cowboy persona, pointing out turtles and laughing as loons spooked her. This was the Gunnar who'd kissed her until her ribs had fallen away one by one, glad to expose her heart for his taking.

This was the Gunnar she'd loved, dammit.

This was the Gunnar she'd never have.

With a deep, resolute breath, she turned the page and reached down into her bag for her charcoal pencils. When she came back up, a shadow fell across her pad.

A shadow shaped very much like a man.

Lexi shaded her eyes, her mouth falling open as she looked up.

“Hey, Alexis.”

“T-Tristan?”

“I thought I'd probably find you here.” He put his hands in his khaki shorts, looking uncomfortable. “I hope I'm not interrupting.”

Lexi forced her mouth closed. He looked the same, but somehow different. Or maybe it was just that she was looking at him with different eyes.

“Um, no. You're not. What—where—are you…back? Here? In York?”

Fantastic.
Her head couldn't even form sentences. But really? Now? Of all times? Tristan had decided to show up, out of the blue, on her mother's flipping porch?

He pointed at the wicker chair next to her. “Mind if I sit?”

“Sure. I mean, no.” She shook her head quickly. “I mean, sit.”

His serious face broke for a second, but then he sat, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. “I heard about your mom. I'm really sorry.”

“Thank you. She's doing okay.”

“And you're—here? Living with her now?”

“Temporarily. Sort of.” Lexi waved her hands vaguely. “Katie and I are trading off.”

He nodded, but didn't say more.

She waited him out for a long thirty seconds, but finally broke. “Why are you here, Tristan? You haven't even spoken to me since you left.”

“I know.” He formed his features into a pained expression, but she wasn't sure whether it was genuine. “And I'm really sorry about that.”

She waited again. It was kind of refreshing to have nothing to lose.

Finally, he spoke. “I spent the summer doing a lot of thinking.”

The first words that leaped to her head were
Congratulations, idiot,
but she reined them in before they escaped. Instead, she just raised her eyebrows, listening.

“You must hate me right now.”

“Hate's a strong word.” She looked straight at him. “But yes, you're close.”

“I'm sorry, Alexis. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I ever asked you to marry me in the first place.”

She looked away, blowing out a frustrated breath, because really? Could she feel any worse, thank you?

He shook his head. “That's not how that was supposed to come out.”

“I can imagine.” She closed her eyes. “Look, I don't know how much you know about what's going on in my life right now, but you coming here to remind me that you never loved me, shouldn't have asked me to marry you, were right to back out before we made a monumental mistake? Not entirely what I need to hear.”

“That's not—”

She put up a hand. “Listen, Tristan. I get it. I was the good-enough-for-now girl, and I didn't see it for what it was. I'm glad you backed out. I am. Because you weren't done looking, and it would have been pretty flipping awkward if you'd continued to do so while you had a ring on your finger.”

She broke off, remembering Tristan's reluctance to even go ring shopping.

“But actually, you weren't planning to wear a ring, anyway, so never mind.”

“Alexis—”

To his credit, he really did look pained as he tried to talk, but dammit, she'd had enough. She'd cried buckets of tears for him back in the spring, and he hadn't deserved one of them.

“I'm pretty sure you said everything that needed saying in your letter, which—just saying, in case it comes in handy in the future—is a cowardly, lousy way to break up with a girlfriend, let alone your fiancée, whether you ever intended to
have
a fiancée or not.”

“I know.”

“And in case you're wondering, I haven't been sitting around all summer pining for you to come back.”

“I know. You sent videos.” He tried to hide the smile sneaking up his face, but couldn't quite do it. “It actually looked like you were having a lot of fun.”

“I was.” She sighed. “I did.”

“I was surprised, to tell you the truth.”

“What? That I had fun?” She tipped her head, feeling anger boil.

“No.” He put up his hands defensively. “That you…went out there at all.”

“Well, maybe you don't know as much as you think you know about me.”

“I can't believe you did all that stuff out there. Rock climbing? Kayaking? You're like a new woman, Alexis.”

Lexi thought back to the first few weeks at Whisper Creek, when she'd been so desperate to prove to Tristan that she could, too, be wild and crazy and fun. She thought of the posed pics she'd sent—some of them taken by Gunnar, who'd never looked happy about it—and she was embarrassed.

Her best times at Whisper Creek had been the quiet nights in her cabin, the peaceful walks to the creek, the zinging, zapping energy of being within ten feet of Gunnar Steele. They'd had nothing to do with being anybody different from who she already was.

It was just that it had taken Gunnar to show her that who she was…was just fine.

“I'm the same person you broke up with, Tristan.”

He shook his head. “No, you're not. That woman wouldn't have gone all out like that. At first, I was afraid maybe you were doing those things for me—you know—to show me what I was missing or whatever. But after that karaoke video, you stopped, and then I couldn't help but wonder what antics you were up to out there.”

“And you were intrigued?” Lexi felt her eyebrows rise. Of course he had been. Because she'd been trying to pretend she was exactly what he'd always wished she was.

“Yeah, Alexis. I was. And the longer I was away from you, the more I—I missed you. It's taken me a long time to figure this out, and I'm not proud, but…I think I made a colossal mistake. I never, ever should have left you.”

Lexi was silent for a long, long moment, staring out at Mom's birdhouses, processing the words she'd been dying to hear for those first few weeks after he'd left. Then she took a deep breath.

“You know what, Tristan? I don't think you
did
make a mistake.”

“What?” He looked taken aback.

“I think, actually, that you leaving was probably the best possible thing that could have happened to me.”

“Well, I can see that it maybe kind of got you moving in a new direction, but—”

Oh, you don't know the half of it, buddy.

“Yeah, it definitely did.”

“So, this new direction—could it possibly also mean a fresh start? For us?” He reached for her hand, and she let him, because she wanted to feel her hand in his. She wanted to see if it made her want to fall to her knees, wanted to see if it sent zapping arcs of possibility up her arm and through every nerve ending in her body—like Gunnar's touch did.

It didn't.

It was warm and comfortable and…boring. This hand had touched her, loved her—she'd thought—and had said goodbye. Sort of. And now? It did…nothing.

If she hadn't already been so depressed, she might have smiled at that realization. She'd spent so,
so
many nights praying for Tristan to come back to her, to realize he'd been an idiot…to ask her for another chance.

Here were her prayers on a silver platter…and all she wanted was to send that platter right back to the kitchen.

She took a deep breath, pulling her hand back to her lap. “You know, when you left, all I wanted was for you to come back. I didn't understand, and I was hellishly mad at you for leaving the way you did.”

“I will continue to apologize for that for the rest of my life. I promise. Just think—it'll make a great story for the grandchildren.”

Lexi closed her eyes, a sudden pain slicing through her chest. Was this…it? Was this her destiny? A man who half-sort-of-maybe loved her, but only because he thought she was somebody different? A man who'd come back, after all?

A man who was…here?

When Gunnar never would be?

Tristan stood up, taking both of her hands and pulling her up with him. The breeze blowing off the ocean sent her hair across her face, and he tenderly tucked it behind her ear.

“Can you just say you'll think about it? Please? I know I'm here out of the blue, and I know you never expected me to come back, but I'm here, and I love you, and if you'll give me another chance, I promise not to let you regret it this time.”

“Tristan—”

“Shh.” He put his finger to her lips. “Don't answer. Just think about it, okay?”

He squeezed her hands and kissed her on the cheek, then let go and turned to walk down the driveway to his Lexus. She watched him go, her mind tumbling. When the taillights had disappeared around the corner, she sat back down, closing her eyes.

What the
hell
was she supposed to do with
this
?

And why,
why
couldn't it have been Gunnar's shadow that had fallen over her instead?